Chapter Text
September 1st
Despite being tall for an eleven year old, the large, old-fashioned leather trunk that Jack towed behind him was large enough for him to fit into. Weaving in and out of the crowd, he struggled to keep up with his guide and nearly crashed into the big bearded man when he halted suddenly.
“This is it,” His guide announced in a thick Russian accent.
The man's name was North, and Jack had only known him for about a week, but that fateful meeting had changed Jack's life. Because North was a teacher at a boarding school for special children. Magical children, just like Jack.
After years of being shuffled from foster home to foster home and labelled as a 'problem child' for causing mischief that he didn't always have an explanation for, Jack finally understood the reason why he'd never quite fit in. Now he had a place where he would belong: Hogwarts.
But as he studied the twin trains before him, he couldn't help his disappoint ment at the two sleek aluminium locomotives . He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting, but he knew that it wasn't that. Modern and nearly identical, neither train looked like the type of vehicle to stop at a magical school.
An empty, sinking in his gut, he half- expect ed his social worker to pop out from behind the news stand and ask if he'd learned his lesson about playing tricks on people.
North grinned and gestur ed to the brick wall between the two platforms. “After you.”
Jack glanced from North to the bare brick wall, brow furrowed.
W hat exactly did North want him to look at?
“ Is platform nine and three-quarters ,” North said, gesturing to the signs above them that read platform 9 and 10. “ So a bit m ore than nine, little bit less than ten. ”
A grin spread across the boy’s face, and he nodded .
W ith a deep breath, Jack stepped forward, stretching out his hand, wondering if the red bricks would jump aside like they had done behind the Leaky Cauldron, when North had taken him shopping for school supplies several days prior . But where his eyes told hi m he should feel the rough texture of bricks against his fingertips, he felt only air as his hand vanished into the wall.
With a gasp of surprise, he stepped forward, pulling his trunk in its entirety through the magical barrier and onto platform nine and three-quarters.
His brown eyes wide and his mouth agape, he stared awestruck at the large red and black steam engine on the tracks: the Hogwarts Express. It certainly stood apart from every other train at King's Cross Station, in both its' appearance and its' secluded platform. Now this looked like the type of train that stopped at magical schools.
Trunks just like Jack's were piled up on the platform as train attendants loaded them onto the train. Families milled around, mums and dads going over their checklists one last time, delivering last minute parting gifts and bidding their children farewell as they boarded the train that would take them to school .
“ Good luck,” North said, putting a hand on Jack's shoulder. Stooping to bring himself closer to Jack's level, North had an amused look in his cheerful blue eyes as he handed the boy a ticket. “ You are staying out of trouble this day, yes? ”
Without waiting for a response, North turned to make his way back towards the gateway to the muggle side of King's Cross Station, immediately vanishing into the crowd, despite his impressive stature and vibrant red cloak.
Eager to board, Jack was so focused on the train that he didn’t see the trolley careening across the platform until it crashed into his. His trunk lurched forward, sending him sprawling across the train station floor with a pale blonde girl, completely knocking the breath out of them both. The offending trolley veered sideways and cut short it’s rider’s boisterous laughter as it toppled over, dumping the red-head on the floor amidst all of her luggage.
The click-clack of high heels against tiled floors followed as a woman with immaculately styled brown hair hurried after the girl . “ Is it too much to ask for you just to behave, child?”
“ Sorry, mum,” The girl said sheepishly as Jack felt a hand on his arm.
“ C’mon lad, up ye get.” A bear-like man with a very large nose and very wild red hair took Jack by the arms and hois ted him to his feet. “Are ye alrigh’?”
Jack nodded, his lungs still aching for breath. T he man turned to offer a hand to the blond girl, but she shrank from his outstretched hand and fled.
A s Jack dusted himself off, he saw a boy about his age with a mop of brown hair emerge from the rubble with a large, tender-looking graze on his cheek.
Leaning down to right his trunk, something cold brushed his cheek, and Jack looked up to see snowflakes drifting down all around him. He held out his hand, grinning. Hogwarts must be a magical place indeed if it could snow inside a train station in September.
While her mother swiftly repacked the spilled contents of her upended trunk, muttering, the little redhead scrunched up her nose, disappointed that her fun had come to an end so soon. In her daydream, she’d been just about to catch the snitch when that boy had gotten in her way and capsized her trolley, dumping her and her possessions across the train station's tiled floor.
“Just look what you've done to your new trousers,” Her mother scolded softly, turning her attention to the large tear in her new jeans. Drawing her wand from the inside pocket of her emerald green blazer, Elinor pointed it at her knee.
“Don't, A like them better like that,” Merida protested, putting her hands over the split in the fabric.
“Come on now, don't be silly,” Elinor said, gently prying her daughters hands away. “Reparo.”
With a discreet flick of her wrist, the threads of the fabric stretched out across her knee and began to knit themselves back together, turning it from a ruddy pink to white to blue in only a few seconds.
“Don't pout, it’s unbecoming of a young lady,” Elinor said, holding out her hand.
“But A liked them like that,” Merida said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Elinor pursed her lips and rested her hands on her hips. “Up now. You have a train to catch.”
“C'mon lass, on yer feet.” Fergus crouched down and held out his free hand. “A'm sure ye'll get plenty o' new rips an' scuffs once ye get to Hogwarts,”
“Och, Fergus,” Elinor frowned. “Don’t encourage this.”
As her father raised an eyebrow at her, Merida's frown melted into a giggle, and then a wide grin. In seconds, she was back on her feet and at the helm of her trolley, ready to embark on her newest journey: Hogwarts. Taking a deep breath, she set her sights on the train.
“Mer-” Elinor reached out after the girl, whose unruly, vibrant red locks were no longer contained in her braid, but Fergus wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist.
“She'll be alrigh', Love.”
Elinor gave Fergus a meaningful look, but he just grinned and nodded after their daughter. “Let's see her off then, shall we?”
Brushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes with one hand, Hiccup snuck a quick glanc e into each cabin he passed as he made his way down the corridor .
He couldn’t see through the thick layer of frost on the glass door of the first compartment, but the rest were clear enough to see through. Most of the cabins had been claimed by upperyear students, but there were a handful of cabins with kids who looked like they might be new students like him. He paused briefly outside one cabin, occupied only by a brown-haired boy in a blue hoodie, but then changed his mind and continued on through the train.
Slipping from one train carriage into the next, he found himself face to face with a familiar girl in a very large teal and maroon plaid shirt. Gingerly, he raised a hand to his cheek, which already felt bruised from when the same girl had mowed him down with her luggage trolley.
“Sorry – sorry,” He said, his lungs still aching, as they both sidestepped in the same direction to get by. They both moved to step to his left again. “Sorry.”
“There you are!” A girl squeaked behind him, and he turned to see a very prim and proper girl with dark hair in the doorway of a nearby cabin, beckoning them inside. “We were starting to wonder where you'd gotten to,”
Huffing, the redhead rolled her eyes and stepped around him and into the cabin with the other girls. “Traffic jam.”
As the girls pulled the cabin door closed behind them, Hiccup continued down the hall.
A few feet later, he finally found the cabin he'd been looking for. Taking a deep breath, he slid open the door and let himself in.
“H-hey guys,” Hiccup said, when all eyes turned to him.
It was Tufford who finally broke the silence, glaring at him through a curtain of greasy blonde hair. “Who let you in?”
“Well, the door wasn't locked-”
“Why are you even here?” Snorri asked,frowning like his cousin was something unpleasant he’d found stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“You know they don't allow squibs at Hogwarts, right?” Ruffina said, prompting a snicker from Tufford. Almost identical, with long, thin faces and white-blonde hair that fell past their shoulders, Ruffina's preference for braids was often the only way to tell the twins apart.
“You know, as it turns out, I'm not a squib after all,” Hiccup said, fumbling in his pockets for the item he was sure would change their minds about him. “They gave me a wand and everything.”
Fingers finally brushing against the aforementioned’s polished surface, he drew it for all to see.
Twelve and a quarter inches of handsome reddish-brown walnut with several bevelled rings for a handle at one end, the wand had darker speckles that created an almost scale-like pattern in the wood grain.
Snorri snorted, and after a second, Tufford and Ruffina were laughing as well.
“You know you're supposed to hold it from the other end,” Astrid rolled her eyes.
“Right, yea-yes, I know that.” Hiccup grabbed the other end, his ears and face flushing warm.
Now holding his wand properly, he moved to sit down on the bench next to the twins, but Ruffina pulled one of her feet up onto the free seat.
“Cool, yeah, no problem. I can stand.” Hiccup shrugged, leaning against the door as casually as possible, but the door shifted a few inches as it closed under his weight, off-balancing him. Leaning at an angle that accentuated the ache in his lungs from his earlier trolley accident, he stowed his wand in his pocket and forced a grin. “So. . . Hogwarts, huh?”
After a prolonged moment of uneasy silence, Astrid rose from her seat.
For a moment, he could only stare up at her, mind reeling as he leaned uncomfortably in his awkward, forced and painful nonchalance. Astrid raised an eyebrow, and he desperately grasped for something clever to say or do that might make her like him – because if Astrid accepted him, he was certain the others would too.
Astrid gestured at him, with her palms up and her fingers splayed out, then shook her head slightly, but all he could do was stare up at her, with no witty remark or reaction of any sort.
“Are you going to move, or-?” Astrid finally asked, not offering a second option.
It took a moment for her words to register. When they did, his cheeks flushed hot and he ducked his head in embarrassment. His lungs protesting sorely with each movement, he scrambled out of her way. “Right. Yes. Sorry.”
A strid rolled her eyes and pulled open the compartment door. As she stepped out into the corridor, the others rose from their seats and made their way towards the door as well.
“Too many losers in this compartment,” Ruffina said, roughly shouldering her way past him.
And one by one, Ruffina, Tufford, Snorri and even Fishel – although he at least looked almost sympathetic – filed out of the compartment after Astrid.
A s the others made their way down the corridor and out of sight, Hiccup sighed, and sat , disappointed and alone in the abandoned compartment.
Most full of enchanted sweets and enthusiasm, and some with tummies filled only by apprehension and nerves, children and teenagers alike filed off the Hogwarts Express. Returning students chattered energetically with their friends after the long summer, and the first years looked every which way with wide eyes, eagerly trying to take in all the sights and smells and sounds of the brand new world that they were all venturing into for the first time.
Jack was no different than the majority his peers, brimming with curiosity and wonder.
“First years!” A burly, bearded man called out across the platform. “You are coming this way to Hogwarts!”
Jack perked up, recognizing the man's accent immediately. Half-grinning, he made his way towards him. Jack wanted to know how North had beaten the train back to Hogwarts.
B y the time he made it across the emptying platform and reached North, he had been joined by several other first year students.
North caught Jack's eye and nodded a greeting as the boy gave him a wave. B e fore North had a chance to speak, a dark-haired girl with red and black stripey stockings tugged at the sleeve of North's bright red robe to get his attention.
“Hey mister,” The girl asked. “What happens when we get to Hogwarts?”
“ At Hogwarts, you are wearing sorting hat,” North straightened his black karakul . “ It tells you house.”
“ And what if. . .” Another girl began, her voice cracking when she realized that everyone had turned to look at her, and flinching under the weight of their attention. Her pale blonde hair tied back in a tight braid, she fidgeted with one of her blue gloves and Jack recognized her as the girl he'd bumped into at Kings Cross Station, before it had begun snowing. It took a moment for her to find the nerve to speak again, although her voice was timid and barely a whisper when she did . “What if it doesn't give you a house? What if you don't belong anywhere?”
Jack's stomach lurched as though the ground had dropped away from under him. He hadn't even considered that as a possibility. What if the hat didn't sort him anywhere at all? Would they send him home? He felt a shiver down his spine at the thought of being told they'd made a mistake and that he would have to return to his muggle foster family.
North's face softened, and he took a knee in front of the nervous girl with his elbow propped on his leg . “Every one of you has something very special inside, and the sorting hat, it knows this! If you are here, you belong.”
Nodding mutely, the girl seemed satisfied by North's answer. Jack let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, and noticed that other students around him seemed to be doing the same. He hadn't been the only one frightened by the idea of being turned away from Hogwarts.
Taking a quick glance across the platform to see if anyone had been missed, North gave a nod and began to lead them all down to the lake shore.
She stared at the silhouettes of the tiny rowboats clustered along the stoney shores, bobbing in the moonlight beneath the magnificent medieval castle that served as its backdrop. The cloudless night had speckled countless stars across the glassy surface of the Black Lake, almost giving an inviting appeal to its inky and mysterious depths.
Buzzing with e xcitement, she chewed on her lower lip, trying to take the whole scene in all at once. It was September 1st , and she was finally eleven years old. Tower for tower and peak for peak, it matched exactly the photograph that she'd found in one of mother's books. And it w as an image that she wanted to remember for the rest of her life.
She was so mesmerized by the landscape that the soft scrape and click of a door handle behind her caught her completely off guard, and she dropped her paintbrush, violet paint splashing her bare toes as the brush bounced against the stone floor.
“ Honestly, Rapunzel, how many times do I have to-” The newcomer chided, stopping short when she saw the newest painting on the girl's bedroom wall. With a roll of her silver eyes, she sighed and recollected her thoughts. “How many times do I have to call you?”
“ Sorry, Mother,” Rapunzel said, her excitement unwavering. “I was painting,”
“Yes, I can see that,” Mother said, unimpressed as she shrugged her black wool cloak from her shoulders. “I just don't understand why you waste so much time with all of this.”
She waved a hand towards the painting, and turned away .
“ Sorry, Mother,” Rapunzel repeated, her smile falter ing for half a second before she spr a ng into action. Following the woman out into the main living area of their small stone cottage, the girl took the offered cloak and carefully hung it in the ir coat closet. “I'm just excited, today is a pretty big day-”
“ Please, Rapunzel,” Mother cut her off. “It's been a very long day, Mother's tired.”
“Of course,” Rapunzel said, bobbing her head and hurrying off to the kitchenette to fill the big cast iron kettle with water. As the woman paused by the floor length mirror to fluff her thick black curls, Rapunzel set the kettle on the hook at the top of the big sandstone fireplace and stoked the coals beneath it.
Rapunzel bustled around the room, fetching cups and tea leaves and sugar, while the older woman remained by the mirror, using her hands to smooth her deep red robe. On her way past, the girl paused a moment, studying herself as she stood next to her mother, her own waist-length golden hair and green eyes a sharp contrast to the ebony curls and silver-grey eyes of her Mother. They hardly looked a thing alike.
“Remember, frowning gives you crow's feet.”
The woman’s melodic voice snapping her back to reality, Rapunzel bobbed her head in acknowledgement, before moving to set the tea tray on a side table. She turned her attention to pulling up mother's favourite chair, a large, heavy mahogany throne with velvet cushions, up to the fireplace.
Mother made her way to the regal-looking chair, pausing for a moment as Rapunzel fluffed the wine-coloured cushions then ducked out of the way to fetch the kettle, which had begun to whistle.
At last, Rapunzel appeared at her mother's side with the tea , pressing a porcelain cup into her mother's grasp with such gusto that she nearly spilled it into her lap. Settling onto the floor at her mother's feet , she turned her attention back to her big question. “So as I was saying, it's a pretty big day today, September first.”
“ Yes, and there was a September first last year too. And the year before that. And the year before that as well.”
“But it's not just any year, Mother, it's September first of the year I turned eleven.” When Mother said nothing, Rapunzel put her hands on her mother's knee, almost pleading with her. “I'm old enough to go to Hogwarts!”
Mother furrowed her brow. “You want to go to Hogwarts?”
“ I've been dreaming about going to Hogwarts for years ,” Rapunzel said, near breathless with exhilaration. “I've been reading about it for as long as I can remember,”
“ Hogwarts really isn't a place for you, ”
“Mother, I've read so much about-”
“ Rapunzel, do be reasonable-”
“But I really think if-”
“ Rapunzel.” Her tone had taken on a sharpness that brooked no arguments, and Rapunzel knew better than to cross it . Mother regarded her for a moment, then softened, gently stroking the child’s cheek with two fingers. “ If you were a witch, Hogwarts would have sent you an invitation. ”
“Oh.”
A ir abuzz with excitement, the first years climbed the steps from the boathouse and headed into the main part of the school, some students pointing excitedly to the castle and grounds as they passed, while other s whisper ed amongst themselves about which houses they thought they would be sorted into. It was only Aurora’s hand in hers that kept Merida with the group instead of running off to explore the castle on her own.
While their peers climbed the stairs two-by-two, Merida, Aurora and Snovita walked almost in lockstep, hand in hand. As they reached the hall at top of the steps, the tall professor with the heavy accent paused to allow any stragglers to catch up, before leading them into a room lined with torches that sparked to life as they approached.
At the other end of the hall, a stout man with a greying handlebar moustache waited with a large roll of parchment.
“I'll take it from here, North.”
“Good luck!” The tall professor said, turning back to them with a final wave before he carried on through the stone archway, his scarlet robes swishing as he turned the corner and vanished from view.
Movement in her peripheral drew Merida’s attention to Snovita, on Aurora’s other side, as she waved her free hand excitedly to get the attention of the man with the handlebar moustache.
“Father!”
Merida grinned as she recognized the man, who nodded stiffly at her friend and cleared his throat.
Snovita lowered her hand, her cheeks flushing a little rosy as she glanced around at her peers as though hoping they hadn’t just witnessed her outburst, her fingers pressed to her lips in a way that reminded Merida very much of her own mother.
Merida leaned in front of Aurora and nudged her friend, nose wrinkled mischievously. “You should do that again.”
“Meri,” Aurora hissed, tugging on her hand in protest, although the grin on her face matched Merida’s in mischief.
Professor Grimm cleared his throat a second time – this time to shush them.
Straightening, Snovita patted her ebony curls quickly and smoothed her robe, once again becoming the well-mannered girl that Merida’s mother had encouraged her so many times to emulate. Merida sighed and stood up too, turning her attention to Professor Grimm as he took a step forward.
“Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is professor Grimm, and I am the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts. You will follow me in single file. When I call your name, you will come to the front of the hall, where the Sorting Hat will be placed on your head. It will assign you to a house, and you will join your classmates. Is that clear?” He didn't wait for a response. “Very good, now follow me.”
And with that, the doors opened and they stepped into the Great Hall, which was lit by a ceiling full of floating candles set against a starry sky. Merida couldn’t help but stare upwards as Professor Grimm lead them alongside one of the long tables towards the dais, where a small wooden stool sat in front of a grandiose fifth table, the stool occupied only by a very large, very well-worn old witches' hat.
Leaving them to stand lined up by the wall, Professor Grimm crossed in front of the staff table on the dais and halted next to the hat. For a moment, the room was silent, and then the hat twitched and from one of the folds that somewhat resembled a mouth, the Sorting Hat began to sing.
'For centuries this has been my station,
to the four houses is my obligation,
to clearly see what lies within,
each student, be they foe or friend.
To honour the founders of Hogwarts School,
and maintain the tradition of an ancient rule.
From Gryffindor who took pride in nerve;
the chivalrous and brave they do preserve;
To Hufflepuff who prized the fair;
to be diligent and loyal they do take care.
To Ravenclaw whose bright mind did soar;
Renown for wit and imagination evermore.
To Slytherin, twas ingenuity that won most accord;
for ambition and fraternity are always adored.
To sort each student in a house of four;
A Hogwarts tradition, forevermore.'
Unfurling the long roll of parchment, Professor Grimm’s voice rang out through the hall as he called the first listed name.
Sorting had begun.
A blond girl wearing blue gloves, “Delle, Elsa”, made her way to the front of the room, fidgeting with the sleeve of her robe as she went. She grimaced as she took her place on the wooden stool, gripping the edges as though she expected to fall off.
The hat announced her as a 'Hufflepuff!'
Shortly after came a girl with black and red striped stockings, “Dracul, Mavis,” who became the newest member of 'Gryffindor!'
And then it was time for “DunBroch, Merida,”
Grinning, she let go of Aurora’s hand and hurried across the hall to take her place on the little wooden stool. She crinkled her nose as Professor Grimm placed the sorting hat upon her mess of curls.
And then nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice spoke in her ear.
'Where should I put you?' Her face flushed very warm when she realized that the voice belonged to the hat. 'There is certainly determination in you and a sense of independence too. But what's this? Raw nerve and an instinct for self-preservation that is second to none...I know-'
'Slytherin!'
As Grimm lifted the hat from her abundance of hair, she turned her attention to the table with the large green banner hung above it, and grinned when she saw her housemates were cheering loudly and excitedly beckoning her over. She couldn't resist grinning as she scampered over to join their table.
Jack's fingers and toes were tingling, and with each name that Professor Grimm called, the tingling feeling spread, expanding into his hands and feet, and eventually his chest too.
And finally: “Frost, Jack,”
The moment of truth had arrived.
Professor Grimm watched him closely as he hurried to the front of the room. Before Jack had even settled into place, brown fabric drooped down over his face and covered his eyes as the ancient hat was placed atop his messy brown hair.
'Well now, you're a tricky one, aren't you?' Jack grinned at the hat's voice in his ear. 'Nerve, certainly, but daring, yes, you could do well in Gryffindor, you know. Although, there's kindness and loyalty here too, and a craving for fraternity that you would do best not to ignore. Perhaps... Yes. I think it'd better be-'
' Hufflepuff !'
Grinning, Jack hopped off the wooden stool and handed the hat back to Professor Grimm as Hufflepuff table erupted with cheers. Warmth washed over him as he made his way to the table, which didn't settle until after Jack had taken his seat.
Hiccup had butterflies, and with each name that was called for sorting, he tugged on the loosening thread in the sleeve of his brand new robes and tried not to think about being sick in front of everyone.
His sorting was of vital importance, because it was, he’d decided, exactly what he needed to earn the approval of Astrid and his cousin and the others as well. The only thing was, he wasn’t sure what house he was supposed to be hoping for as he would be the first of the Berk kids to be sorted. What house would everyone else be hoping for? Slytherins were resourceful, and made for excellent dragon trappers. Hufflepuffs were hard workers, fierce and true, and his uncle Gunnar often said there was no better person than a Hufflepuff to have in your corner. And then there was Gryffindor, the tireless defenders of his home and way of life.
Hiccup had read all about Hogwarts, but he wasn't entirely sure he fit the bill for his father's house. He was scrawny and clumsy and nearly a squib, hardly Gryffindor material.
He wished that he didn’t have to go first, because then he’d know which house to hope for. Which house was the right one so that he might finally belong.
If Hogwarts hadn't made a mistake, anyway.
His stomach was tied up in knots even thinking about the possibility of being turned away from Hogwarts.
“Haddock, Hindrick.”
This was it, the moment that would define his entire life for the next seven years, and beyond it too.
And suddenly it was as though someone had wrapped a rubber band around his chest to stop him from drawing breath.
“Haddock, Hindrick.” Professor Grimm repeated, his words clipped and curt.
And then someone bumped into him from behind, and Hiccup stumbled out of the line. Drawing a shaky breath, he took another step forward and tried to focus on not throwing up.
Biting his lower lip, he flexed his fingers as he walked, but his hands kept trembling, so instead he shoved them into his pockets so that nobody else would see.
If he got the wrong house, he may as well pack his bags and leave school that night, because he wasn’t sure he’d ever be welcomed home again.
Hiccup squeezed his eyes closed as the patchy old hat was set on his head, its brim drooping low over his face.
'Interesting,' The hat said, and Hiccup caught his breath. 'A thirst to prove yourself and a resourceful mind – that would certainly be well appreciated in Slytherin. But is that truly where you belong?'
Hiccup swallowed the lump that welled up in his throat. “I want to be like Astrid and Snorri and my Dad. I have to be in the same house.”
'Well, you certainly seem to share your father’s tendency for obstinacy, I will say. But you also have creativity aplenty, and curiousity unmatched. Despite what you crave, I think you'll find that what you want is not always what you may need. It may be that somewhere else will suit you just as well-'
'Ravenclaw!'
Hiccup’s breath hitched in his throat, and as Grimm plucked the hat from his head and shooed him off to join his cheering new housemates, Hiccup blinked back tears.
The hat had said that he was like his father, so why hadn't it put him in Gryffindor? Wasn't it supposed to take a person's choice into account?
Astrid and Snorri and the others would never accept him now.
With a deep sigh, Rapunzel stared up at the indigo and violet painting on her bedroom wall. She'd been sitting cross-legged below it for more than an hour and it was well past her bedtime but she couldn't sleep. She'd been so excited to go to Hogwarts, and since the closest she was ever going to get to Hogwarts was her painting, she couldn't help but star e at it, imagining herself in one of those tiny rowboats in the lake below the castle. She wanted so badly to be there, to meet other kids her age, to learn magic and to explore the world.
T ears pricked at her eyes, almost making the painting come to life in the darkness, the tiny wooden boats bobbing up and down in the moonlit water, stars twinkling in the dark night sky.
Rubbing the tears from her eyes with the heels of her hands, she breathed a heavy sigh, wishing things could be different.
And then her breath caught in her throat, and she rubbed her eyes again for good measure, in case they were just playing tricks on her in the darkness.
The boats were moving.
Awestruck, she reached out her hand and touched one of the tiny boats, the not-quite-dry paint still tacky against her skin. And the boats kept bobbing up and down in the inky dark waves, dipping behind her fingertips as they sat in the water.
Green eyes wide, she sprinted to her mother's room.
“Mother!” Rapunzel called, barely able to contain her excitement as she knocked on her mother's door. “Mother, are you awake?”
The hinge creaking in protest, Rapunzel pushed the door open, and her Mother stirred, peeling back her wine-coloured eye mask with a reproachful look.
“Rapunzel, what are you doing out of bed at this hour? Go back to bed-”
“But the boats – they’re floating!”
“Boats?” The older woman repeated, bewildered. “Rapunzel, it was just a silly dream.”
“No, Mother,” Rapunzel insisted. “In my painting!”
“Your painting? What – you don’t mean that silly piece you painted on your wall today?”
Rapunzel nodded fervently. “The boats in my painting are moving. Moving! What if I am a witch after all? And what if Hogwarts did send me a letter and it just got lost on the way here?”
“Rapunzel, you’re rambling.”
“But it could happen, I'm sure, a letter getting lost. With how many students they have to send letters to, it makes sense that one could get misplaced every so often. So I could be a witch-”
“You're grasping at bristles, Rapunzel.” Mother said. “Go back to bed.”
“But mother-” Rapunzel said, grasping her mother's hands. “What if my letter just got lost?”
“It didn't.” Mother said, very matter-of-fact. “They would have kept writing until they received a response. They're very insistent, trust me.”
“But my painting is moving.”
“You're just imagining things. It's very late, Rapunzel, well past your bedtime.” Mother said, giving her a stern look. “And Mother needs her beauty sleep.”
“But I saw it move, Mother. Come on, I'll show you.” Grabbing her mother’s hand, Rapunzel pulled her out of bed. “Please, Mother, you have to come with me.”
T he older woman sighed through her nose, then picked up her wand. “ Very well. Lumos .”
P ractically hopping with excitement , Rapunzel lead her Mother to her bedroom, to the wall that she’d spent the last week meticulously painting a mural to match the photo in Mother’s book.
“What exactly am I looking for?” Mother asked, raising an eyebrow.
Rapunzel winced, and drew a shaky breath, willing herself not to cry. Mother didn’t like it when she cried.
Not a single brushstroke of her painting moved now. No stars twinkled, no rowboats bobbed, no water rippled, nothing.
“I don't see anything moving. Do you?”
“No,” A suffocating grief weighed on her chest as she stared desperately at the still painting, her throat tight and tears pricking at her eyes. All she could do was whisper. “But I was so sure.”
“Hogwarts only sends invitation letters to witches, my flower. You're a squib. Now go back to bed.”